


Down to the Bone

by brennasaur



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Battle, Family, Fire, Gen, Pokeball(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 17:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brennasaur/pseuds/brennasaur
Summary: A one-shot dive into the background of the world's saddest Pokemon, Cubone.





	Down to the Bone

Somewhere along the way, our lineage was cursed. No one really remembers the way things were before-- everything. Our main predator was always the Mandibuzz. They are a fierce Pokemon race, not only feasting on the bones of their prey, but also using them for accessories. If one of your own was taken by one of these immense birds, you could almost count on seeing parts of them again. Their femur could wind up tangled in the tufts of chocolate-colored feathers sitting atop its otherwise bare pink head, or their jaw could be draped across its midsection as some macabre version of a skirt a human might wear. They were always impossibly female, and a lot of us wonder if maybe it was because of human intervention that it stayed that way. The females were always more ruthless, more willing to fight. They did the hunting and the building of nests. What bones they didn't use for their own decoration winded up hanging in the crook of tree limbs, encasing their young. The males, before they went extinct, mostly kept to themselves in the nests or surrounding the tree in case of any intruders. 

We assume that all of them were caught by some 'trainer' or whatever they call themselves, and when they found they weren't cooperative in the slightest, they stuffed them in a Pokeball and transferred their code to some long forgotten computer collecting dust in the back of a Pokecenter. Once the humans had collected all the females they could track down in the wild, our kind flourished. We were never the kind of beasts any trainers wanted. We were cute, sure, but simple companionship only takes you so far in this world. We were left pretty much alone, until the demand for the bird of prey sent human minds into overdrive. Knowing they had put a dam in the flowing waters of the Mandibuzz life cycle, they trapped them in a confined space with Dittos. At first, they rejected the attempt at mating, preferring instead to torture the purple gelatinous blob. However, it wasn't long before the Mandibuzz figured out that the Ditto was a creature devoid of bones, and quickly lost interest in the attack. I guess they got wise to the idea that they would die out if they didn't relent, though, so nature took its course. Something in the breeding went horrifyingly wrong. Or, I guess for them, incredibly right. This new race was faster, slicker, and hungrier. So much so that trainers started to release them back into the wild after they either attacked them or the other Pokemon in the party. They were back in their habitat, and we were back on the menu.

We all know about the first Cubone to wear the skull. A particularly nasty Mandibuzz grew tired of picking on the young; the weak. It shunned the easy prey and took it upon itself to stalk a healthy mother, taking her in its sharp black talons and carrying her off into the night. Everyone could hear her sharp, panicked screams as their combined forms grew smaller and smaller in the sky. Her offspring, who had been sleeping beside her, saw the whole thing. I can't tell you what made him follow the direction they flew off in. I'm not sure if he was born without that voice in your head that tells you things might be dangerous, or if he was just so fucked up from watching his world fall apart in one swift motion that he snapped. Whatever it was, it changed everything. He set out on foot into the pitch black, following dropped feathers, blood droplets, and distant cries. He walked and he walked until the trail went cold. By this time, the sun had risen, and his eyes were adjusting to the morning light. 

That's when he saw them. The bones. They were littered across the ground like a grotesque kind of Yellow Brick Road. He grabbed a long, sun-bleached humerus from the path and armed himself with it. He was on high alert, checking the sky every few feet to make sure there were no dark shadows following him or circling the air, foretelling his early demise. Against all odds, he made it to their territory. I'm sure you've seen a Mandibuzz or two in your lifetime, and if not, you're not really missing out. They all look pretty much the same, just varying in size and bone preference. I think the only reason he could determine which of the birds took his mom was from the fresh meat strewn on the ground beneath its pale pink legs. It had fought off its companions, throwing them bones it didn't want. They caught them in their inky beaks, ripping small bits of flesh that the leader had clearly missed, leaving the bones shining as white as froth topping a crashing wave. There was an unholy din, filling the air with a sound akin to laughter. It stopped abruptly as the small Cubone approached. They took him in with their red, beady eyes, and the focus of his mission stopped picking his mother's skull apart to take him in. It swallowed one of her eyes, popping it like a grape. It opened its beak into something that resembled a grin, and spread its wings wide, issuing a challenge.

Blind rage filled the Cubone then, and he tossed the bone at the bird's head. It connected, and the Mandibuzz closed its mighty jaw, taking in the creature with new respect. It charged him, and the Cubone lept off his feet, taking the bone adorning his foe's scalp. He wielded it like a samurai, slicing this way and that, until the Cubone was breathless and the the Mandibuzz was dead. The others of its species flew away into distant trees. The Cubone sank down to his mother's bones and wept. I've heard sounds like it for many years now, so I'm well aware of the heart wrenching keening that conveys a mourning like no other. This sound unnerved the winged creatures that were studying him. Sensing weakness, a few dopped down to avenge their fallen sister. Hearing their wings flap, the Cubone snapped to attention, and on a rush of adrenaline grabbed his mother's skull and threw it over his head like armor. The birds smacked into it, expecting to meet soft flesh but instead connecting with unyeilding bone. Their maws cracked open, sending a chorus of screeching into the air. The Cubone took its chance then and ran. He made his way back to his pack, and he was never the same. He wouldn't communicate with anyone. He barely ate. It seemed as though he never slept, preferring to sit in the spot where his mother's warmth had once been and cry.

As he grew worse, so did the curiosity of his species. They began to dig up their dead and put on the skulls of their predecessors. They trained in combat with each other, vowing that such an attack would never happen again. If it did, they would be prepared for it. A human stumbled upon their hiding spot one fateful day, and caught sight of a sparring match with power hungry eyes. He trapped a Cubone and rushed off to the nearest town. Mere days later, the area swarmed with trainers, desperate for a shiny new toy of their own. They had witnessed the Cubone's prowess with its bone weapon, and its novelty was welcomed in an environment that had long since grown stagnant. As often happens once humans stick their hands in it, the natural order of our lives as we know it was shifted. We, like the Mandibuzz species before us, were unable to live up to their expectations. The few that had joined up in arms with the armored Cubone were instructed by their new owners to keep their makeshift helmets on at all times, leaving them to relearn out how to eat, sleep, and thrive. They found themselves becoming one with their families bones. Over time, their skin fused with their skulls until they were impossible to remove. 

If it sounds terrifying to you, I'm sure you can imagine how the rest of us felt about it. However, underneath that terror was a bizarre longing. I don't know if it's the call of companionship, the thrill of the fight, or the desperate urge to fit in that sent our kind over the edge. We earned a new nickname; The Lonely Pokemon. We no longer traveled in packs, preferring to leave even our families behind for fear of being taken down by one of our own. I remember my own mother stealing away in the middle of the night, taking nothing but me and her will to live. She knew I would probably grow up one day to betray her, but at that time, nothing mattered but a mother's love. She told me stories of old days, far beyond her years, when we barely even knew how to raise our own claws in self defense. No one had seen hide nor feather of a Mandibuzz for years now. They were fairy tales as far as we were concerned. My mother didn't have a skull accessory of her own to speak of. She lived with her head in the clouds, believing that one day we would return to our former selves. I tried to live like her. I really did.

It was a day like any other. We left the safety of our forest brush to find berries in a clearing. The air was still, and the scent of distant cherry blossom trees drifted from a neighboring town. My mother liked to stay somewhat close to civilization, telling me that the rest of our kind were wary of humans, and were less likely to find us mixed in with their chatter and noise. What she didn't count on was a small, black haired boy. He waltzed into the woods one day, clearly on a mission. We had hidden low in the tall grass upon hearing his footsteps, but as he stepped close to me, my mom shot up defensively. He grinned broadly, and exclaimed with excitement.

"Oh, wow! A wild Pokemon!"

He fiddled with a strap of leather around his waist and brought out a small red and white ball. He clutched it in his palm, and called a figure forth.

"Pikachu, I choose you!"

My mother shot me a hard look, and I read her intention loud and clear. I kept my body low, and tried to suppress the whimpers that were climbing up my throat. Her legs parted, setting up a battle stance. She bared her teeth, trying to look menacing. Only I knew that she was bluffing, having never trained to fight, and even if she had, there were no bones around that she could wield. The small trainer's grin widened as a yellow rodent with pulsing blue energy circling its whiskers emerged from the ball, blinking to focus in the daylight. It caught sight of my mom and stiffened, immediately ready for a fight. The boy chuckled.  
"All right, Pikachu! Let's practice! Use Electro Ball!"

A yellow orb of power appeared in front of Pikachu, and he tossed it towards my mother. It looked as though the air was feeding it, and it grew almost triple in size before it reached her. She was not quick enough, and it smacked into her, sending electricity through her very veins. She writhed in pain, but managed to stand again, legs wobbling. She chewed on a nearby berry, relieving the effects of the shock. The trainer rubbed his chin and stared hard at her. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers.

"Pikachu! Use Thunderbolt!"

As if called down by some long forgotten god, a single bolt of lightning crashed to the ground, engulfing my mother's form. When the light faded, she was still on her feet but immobile. Her eyes were the only part of herself she still had control over, and I watched a tear fall down her cheek as they cut to me, sorrow filling her pupils. I could smell the fear on her, or maybe it was coming from my own body. I realized now that I had released my bowels, and I prayed and prayed that the rat creature couldn't smell me too. The human clapped, clearly pleased with his companion's handiwork.

"We need to take her down easy, Pikachu. Can you handle that? Maybe just a Tail Whip?"

The rodent nodded, and answered in what sounded like the affirmative.

"Pik-A!"

It spun, flinging its tail towards my mother's prone body. An errant stream of electricity flowed from the creature's appendage and connected with a similar strand still hovering on my mother's skin like a fine mist. The sparks it created set the grass around them on fire instantly, and the trainer scooped up the Pikachu and ran out of the forest, screaming for help. I moved then, attempting to combat the flames to get to my mother, who was still frozen in the same spot. I stuck my arm out to grab her, and was instead latched onto by a rising wall of flame. I heard a flurry of human voices calling to each other in hurried tones, and with it came the sound of footsteps. I ran into the forest, and kept watch behind a small, rotted stump. The humans came with buckets of water and thick blankets. They poured, they stomped, they beat the flames into submission. I noticed that the black haired boy was not among them. One of the older humans shook his head, surveying the blackened ground.

"Ash has got to be more careful with that Pokemon of his. This whole forest could have burned. I know everyone has to learn, but Jesus."

Many of the others vocalized their agreement, and they turned to return to their village. I waited until night to come away from my hiding place. My feet crunched through cracked and dry earth as I made my way towards my mother. There was nothing left of her now but a charred stack of bones. A sob expelled itself from my throat as I realized that I could never escape my destiny. I reached down and picked up her skull, still warm from the dying embers surrounding it. I covered my head with it, inhaling the scent of smoke and ash. Ash. It's only fitting that the trainer's name was Ash. He and that mousy animal of his had to be destroyed, one way or another. I grabbed a femur from the pile and the weight of it felt-- natural, somehow. They would pay. They would all pay for taking my mother away from me. I wouldn't rest until their actions burned them from the inside out, or vice versa. If I hurried, I could still make out their trail. 

Like I said, our lineage was cursed. I had started to think that I was immune, that I would never have to wear my mother's skull. Call it evolution, call it fate, call it whatever the hell you'd like. All I know is that after searching town after town, a trainer found me. He tried to capture me, unsuccessfully. I heard him mumbling to himself as he gave up, lamenting his luck.

"I can just hear my grandpa now. 'Gary, why can't you be more like Ash? You can't even catch a Cubone'. God, I just want to take him down-- show Ash who's boss once and for all."

ASH. I snapped to attention, rushing to catch up with the boy. He whipped around, expecting a fight, but I bowed my head in reverence. He held out the same red and white ball that the Pikachu was encased in that fateful day. I met his eye and held out my claws. He pressed a button on the ball, and my vision went black. I will be biding my time in this prison until Gary finds our foe, and we will both exact our revenge.


End file.
